AUSTIN, Texas — The sound man at Opal Divine's Firehousewas filling the pre-show dead time with his own selectionof classic-rock greatest hits: a couple of cuts from theEagles' "Long Run" album, a smattering of Zeppelin, a lot ofJourney. A few minutes before showtime, he played CheapTrick's live cover of "Ain't That a Shame," and Fanzinedrummer Don Jameson started air-drumming.

"Oh, yes!" he said, tapping into the song's lengthyintroductory groove. "This is what it's about, right here.It's not, 'Won't you step back from that ledge, my friend' "— making a face, making fun of the Third Eye Blind hit"Jumper" — "It's about the shaking of the booty. It's aboutbeing larger than life . . . There isn't an arena bigenough to hold us."

This weekend it wasn't arenas, just a small club patioon the edge of Austin's hottest nightclub scene and in themiddle of its yearly music-industry lottery.

On Wednesday night, Jameson and his Tulsa-based rockband, Fanzine, kicked off the South by Southwest musicfestival, an annual congregation of music-business talentscouts and international media all searching for the NextBig Thing. Nearly 1,000 bands — a record — from around theworld were scheduled to play hourlong sets in clubsthroughout Austin this weekend, and Fanzine had thedaunting task of playing in the first showcase slot on thefirst night of the festival. In just a few hours, andcertainly over the four days of the festival, these fourplayers would learn what, indeed, it was all about.

It's all about the gig

South by Southwest is basically a live-music mall."Buyers" from record labels, management companies and musicmagazines stroll up and down Austin's nightclub-lined SixthStreet and shop for the hottest new fashions in pop music.So when your band is fortunate enough to land a showcasehere, you want everything to be perfect. For Fanzine,it very nearly was.

"How lucky are we to be playing right before theMayflies?" Jameson asked when the band finished sound check.The Mayflies, an up-and-coming pop band from Chapel Hill,N.C., were listed by many SXSW forecasters as one of themost interesting acts to see this year. They would thus bedrawing a crowd of scouts and record company reps, and manyof them would come early — and hear Fanzine.

"We're blessed tonight. This feels good," Fanzine singerAdam said before the show.

The band arrived in Austin on Tuesday and immediatelywent to work with staple guns and smiles, tacking upposters advertising the Wednesday night gig and thrustinghandbills into the palms of any passers-by.

"We came all this way, I just want someone to see us,"Jameson said. "Tonight's all about being seen — eyes on us."

And, of course, ears.

It's not about the gig

Still, Jameson and the other Fanzine players weren'texpecting miracles. Their set coincided with the AustinMusic Awards — a ceremony honoring the best of local talent,much like Tulsa's Spotniks — the big event of Wednesdaynight. The band's 24 hours in town wasn't a lot of time tospread the word about its showcase. Most music reps andmedia don't arrive until late Wednesday or Thursday,anyway. "I really expect very little tonight," Jamesonsaid. "It's the first night, and this club's off the beatenpath, but this sure is great to put (in the press kit). Itmeans we've been chosen among some kind of selected uppercrust."

The World Wide Web was certainly an aid in advancepromotion. Word of the showcase spread quickly on, oddlyenough, Web sites and newsgroups for fans of the Toadies.Plus, Tulsa radio music directors e-mailed their recordcompany contacts en masse, advising them of the Fanzineshow.

One of them, KMYZ 104.5-FM music director Ray Seggern,attended Wednesday's show. Seggern is an Austin native,having worked with the city's popular modern rock stationfor several years. He knows people, and he dragged as manyas he could with him to see the Tulsa band.

But even Seggern was realistic.

"It's not about the gig," he said. "The gig is the leastimportant part. (What's important) is the networking, theexperience, the mindset. Just being here and wearing abadge is important."

Case in point: Hanson. The young Tulsa trio spentseveral days at SXSW early in the '90s. Too young to evenplay in the local bars, they strolled the streets andsoftball-park bleachers, singing for anyone who wouldlisten. An astute music manager did, and the rest ishistory.

It's about support

For Fanzine's show, though, Opal Divine's was packed.Most importantly, the crowd stayed and stared. Many SXSWshowcase audiences often are indifferent groups of jadedmusic-industry mavens concentrating on wheeling and dealingwith other industry folk rather than listening to thebands. Fanzine's crowd, though, stopped, looked andlistened. The band was on point, too. Tighter thanthey've been in many months — and fueled by more adreneline,no doubt — they tore through 40 minutes of theirgroove-stuffed, flashy and unrelenting rock 'n' roll. Adamthrew off his bright orange jacket ("You like me mack?") bythe third song and was soon shaking his tambourine all overthe club's outdoor wooden deck and dancing with Beatle Bob,an eccentric music-industry analyst who came to the showand danced his trademark swingin' dance.

Many in Wednesday night's crowd were Tulsans, checkingout their hometown band on Austin's turf. Tim Kassen, aWilliams Company agent who also books bands for Tulsa'sBourbon Street Cafe on 15th Street, was in town and said hemade a beeline to Fanzine's show. "Nobody performs likeAdam, with all that energy," he said. "Heck, if I had themoney, I'd sign them."

Also looking on were T.J. Green and Angie Devore, thehusband-and-wife team at the helm of new Tulsa bandUltrafix. They weren't scheduled to play in Austin thisweekend; they came down just to attend the conference andmeet music-business folks and other musicians. They hadplanned to arrive in Austin on Thursday but came a dayearly to be present for the Fanzine show.

"It's all about support, man," Green said.

By George, we got us a rock showBy Thomas Conner 03/19/2000

AUSTIN, Texas — When South by Southwest occurs eachMarch, the Texas capital is literally overrun by musicbusinesspeople and musicians. How invasive is theconference? Just ask presidential hopeful George W. Bush.

When the Texas governor realized he was going to sweepTuesday's second big round of Republican presidentialprimaries, his campaign staff decided to book a localballroom to host the celebration and inevitable victoryspeech.

But they couldn't find one. Every ballroom, theater andpublic venue in town was booked up with SXSW events. Bushand his supporters wound up in far northwest Austin,patting themselves on the back in a gymnasium at the DellJewish Community Campus.

Talk about rocking the vote.

Rangers in command

Storms raked the Texas hill country late Thursdayafternoon. The Ray Price show in the park surely wasdoomed, so we headed for indoor shelter. The fact that ithad tortillas, margaritas and the Red Dirt Rangers made itdownright heaven.

The Oklahoma roots-music band played the first of itsfive SXSW-week gigs ("Six," Ranger John Cooper said later — "Weactually got one that pays!") at Jovita's, an authenticMexican restaurant south of downtown Austin.

And I mean authentic. The walls were arrayed with rich,colorful murals, mostly depicting masked rebels in olivedrab, including a giant portrait of Che Guevera. The tableswere so sticky we had to paper them over with copies from astack of someone's Spanish-English poem entitled"Crossroads." Our waitress had two breathtaking parrotstattooed on her shoulder blades.

As the storm pelted Jovita's corrugated skylight, theRangers blasted through their typically invigorating set ofOkie rock 'n' soul, opening the show with two Woody Guthriecovers, "Rangers' Command" (the title track to the Rangers'latest CD, recorded in Austin) and "California Stars" (one ofthe Woody lyrics put to music by Billy Bragg and Wilco) — anod to Woody's younger sister, Mary Jo Edgmon, sitting inthe audience.

Also watching the Rangers was fellow Stillwater native,now Austin-based songwriter Jimmy Lafave. The Rangers alsoplayed his song "Red Dirt Roads," rocking it more than Lafaveprobably ever envisioned and using it as a sparring matchbetween electric guitarist Ben Han and new steel guitaristRoger Ray, also of Stillwater's Jason Boland and theStranglers. Whoops and yelps all around.

This ... is Wanda

Conversation overheard on the sidewalk outside theContinental Club, Thursday night in the freezing cold,waiting in vain to get inside and hear Oklahoma Cityrockabilly queen Wanda Jackson:

She: "We'll never get in."He: "They're full? At eight o'clock? Who is this woman?"She: "I don't know. She looks like Loretta Lynn."He: "Loretta Lynn never had a stand-up bass player likethat."She: "Can you see her hair?"He: "That's all I can see. I could be back at the hoteland still see that hair."She: "It's not that big."He: "What?"She: "Nothing. I was wrong."

Talking 'bout Tulsa

Tulsans protested the derogatory mention of the city ina recent Best Western ad campaign, but our hometown creepsinto the world's consciousness in strange and mysteriousways.

Take, for example, a song by Astrid, a spunky andtuneful guitar band from Scotland. Near the end of theband's hard-hitting showcase, they played a song called"Cybersex," which the singer was good enough to point out "isabout cybersex." The refrain, from the point of view of thenarrative's libidinous web surfer: "It's 3 p.m. in Idlewild/ Kansas, Tulsa, Arkansas."

Minty sweet

Norman band Starlight Mints were lucky enough to land aSXSW showcase this year, but it was nearly ruined byequipment problems that delayed them 20 minutes — nearlyhalf of their allotted playing time. (And SXSW showcasesbegin and end on time, or else.)

Still, the embryonic rock band impressed a capacitycrowd at the intimate Copper Tank North club with itsherky-jerky melodies and noises. My notes include thisabsurd but revealing description of the band's music:"Gordon Gano (Violent Femmes) singing, Thurston Moore (SonicYouth) on guitar, chick from the Rentals (Maya Rudolph) onkeys, all aboard a carousel at Wayne Coyne's (Flaming Lips)fun park."

For the record

While SXSW takes over Austin with live music, another ofthe country's biggest musical events occurs here at thesame time. This one involves recorded music: the annualAustin Record Convention, the largest new-and-used recordsale in the country.

Hundreds of record dealers from all over the countryhuddle over tables in the Palmer Municipal Auditorium andhawk more than a million CDs, LPs, 45s and even 78s. Withthe world's music business leaders in town, these dealershave to face a particular and knowledgeable clientele.

"This is the reissue, though. See, it's dated '92. Youdon't have the '84 original with the six extra versions?"

Part of the fun of perusing the SXSW schedule is thehumor and daring of some of the band names. The chucklerson this year's list: Alabama Thunder Pussy, ... And YouWill Know Us by the Trail of Dead, Bastard Sons of JohnnyCash, Betty Blowtorch, Camaro Hair, Del the FunkyHomosapien, the Dino Martinis, Fatal Flying Guilloteens, IAm the World Trade Center, Man Scouts of America, MaximumCoherence During Flying, the Psychedelic Kinky Fellows,Roar! Lion, Sci-Fi Uterus and the Tremolo Beer Gut.

Food for the soul

If you want music media to come see your band, set up afree buffet. A table of sumptuous Texas barbecue and anabsence of cash registers filled La Zona Rosa with SXSWregistrants Thursday afternoon to see the Nixons open forTexas guitar hero Ian Moore. Greasy hands clapped for theNixons' timeless (as in, stuck in 1993) grunge rock.The band sported a new record label (the showcase sponsor,Koch Records), new songs ("P.O.V." and the wildly cheery"Blackout") and, well, a new band. Singer Zac Malloy is theonly original Norman-native member left, having jettisonedthe rest of the crew for a new batch of Dallas-basedthrow-backs.

The Nixons started in Norman as a cover band, scored amodern rock hit early in the '90s with "Sister" and now arebased in Dallas. A new album is due April 11.

'What about the amps?'

Austin is full of colorful, sometimes downrighteccentric, characters, so when we noticed the guy talkingto himself on Fourth Street, it was no big shock.

He stood in the hot afternoon sun, pacing in circles,gesturing wildly and talking, talking, talking — by himself."What about the amps?" he kept asking. "Where are the amps?" Weskirted him just off the curb, thinking to ourselves, "Soyoung, and already so nuts." Then we noticed it.

AUSTIN, Texas — More than 30 years after his death,musicians — and, indeed, Americans — are just now figuringout what Woody Guthrie was about.

Greg Johnson, owner of Oklahoma City's revered Blue Doornightclub, summed it up ably during a South by Southwestpanel discussion entitled "Made for You and Me: WoodyGuthrie's Dust Bowl Legacy."

"Woody was about freedom and community," Johnson said. "Hewas about propping people up. Bruce Springsteen used to sayit this way: 'Woody was about the next guy in line.' "

Veteran music journalist Dave Marsh led the panel, whichalso included Austin-based songwriters Jimmy Lafave andMichael Fracasso. The star of the panel, though, wasGuthrie's youngest sister, Mary Jo Edgmon, who regaled thecrowd with homespun tales of her proud father, hermisunderstood mother and her iconic older brother. "Iwas reared on music all the way up to here," Edgmon said,pointing over her head. "Woody taught me chords on theguitar. I got really good at that C chord, I guess it was."

Edgmon spoke proudly of the "1,000 percent turnaround" inAmerica's perception of Woody, particularly in his GreenCountry hometown of Okemah. She said she's thrilled to seethe misunderstandings about Woody's political and spiritualbeliefs clearing up.

"I want the world to understand that the Guthrie familywas not trash, that Woody was as good a man as there is,"she said.

Lafave and Fracasso both punctuated the panel sessionwith performances. Fracasso sang Guthrie's "1913 Massacre"and one of his own songs directly inspired by Woody'ssongwriting (Fracasso's chorus: "From the mountains to thevalleys / from the prairies to the sea / If you ain't gotlove, you ain't got a nickel"). Lafave sang a song aboutWoody called "Woody's Road," written by acclaimed Oklahomasongwriter Bob Childers, and then closed the afternoonevent with a rendition of Guthrie's "Oklahoma Hills," joinedby members of the Red Dirt Rangers and Edgmon herself.

Paint the town Redd

Austin's Top of the Marc is a clean, classy place — notyour usual SXSW mosh pit. The clientele shows the properamount of cuff, and the bar has drambuie. Festivalorganizers couldn't just stick another all-girl Japanesepunk band in here. They needed class. So they calledupon Charlie Redd and his boys.

Decked out and dynamic, the Full Flava Kings broughtRedd back home in style. "Bring it on home, y'all!" Reddwould shout in a song's closing jam, though it was unclearwhich home he was referring to — his native Austin or hisnew Tulsa HQ. Either way, his Austin friends and fans saw anew Redd on Saturday night: more groovy, more gravy anddrizzling a more honeyed baritone over the band's denserhythm-and-funk. In addition to charter Kings DaveKelly on guitar, Brian Lee on keyboards and Stanley Farybeating the drums mercilessly, the Full Flava Kings debutednew guitarist and veteran Tulsa funkmeister Travis Fite(Phat Thumb) to the Austin crowd.

Their response? Ask the female stranger who tried tostart The Bump with me during the show.

Here come the brides

Tyson Meade, the colorful leader of the Norman-rearedChainsaw Kittens, used to wear dresses on stage as a rule.After his Friday night SXSW showcase, he took the fixationto a bold new level by getting married to another man infull white-gown fabulousness.

Before the next band (the bizarro but like-minded Frogs)took the tent stage outside the Gallery Lombardi Lounge,Meade reappeared in a wedding processional that parted thecrowd. The wedding party included several maids, matronsand misters of honor in various degrees of Mardi Gras-esquegarb, all of whom surrounded the officiating Hindu priestfor the brief ceremony.

In a flurry of toasts and funny-but-heartfelt vows,Meade and Skip Handleman Werner — who was always preceded bythe mysterious title "international pop star" — werepronounced unlawfully married. They smooched, and thewedding party bunny-hopped from the venue as "Y.M.C.A."blared.

Reports of this high camp should not overshadow news ofthe Kittens' triumphant return. Still without a record dealafter the sad demise of the Smashing Pumpkins' ScratchieRecords, the Kittens blasted back into action Friday nightwith an explosive set of old and new glam-punk songs.Meade, juiced by pre-wedding jitters, took the stage in aroyal blue feathery jacket and furiously belted andscreamed his way through the serrated set of Kitty classicsreaching all the way back to the band's debut album,"Violent Religion."

I can't chaaange

Billy Joe Winghead's lead singer, John Manson, took outhis personal angst about Meade's marriage (he wasdistraught over not getting to, um, kiss the bride) throughBJW's two sets of roadhouse rock. The OKC-Tulsa bandblew into Austin late Saturday and played back-to-backshows at the Hole in the Wall, a University of Texashangout, and Cheapo Discs. Shoppers at the latter venuewere typically unfazed by the blaring band over in thecorner — until they played "Free Bird."

A cliche request that normally turns off young rockaudiences always turns heads when its coming from thefive-piece Billy Joe Winghead. Tulsa bassist Steve Jonessings over the guitar grind while Manson waves out themelody on his green theremin. Amid the band's repertoire ofsongs about rest-stop sex, doomed B-filmstars and carsalesman lingo, "Free Bird" is practically the crown jeweland always a crowd pleaser.

Hit me with your best shot

Readers of the Austin Chronicle voted David Garza thecity's second-best musician of the '90s. (Ask a blues fanwho was first.) It's not simply because he writeswell-rounded pop songs and executes them gracefully onrecord with his band; it's that he really doesn't need hisband at all.

On the Waterloo Park stage late Saturday afternoon,Garza held his own with only his pretty red Gibson guitarto keep him company. Songs that on record seem piecedtogether by clever arrangements of drum machines, acousticguitar and Garza's versatile voice — like "Discoball World" --evened out in frenetic and energetic solo jams. Near theend, he took requests, cheerfully tearing his fingernailsoff by barreling through "Take Another Shot."

Thank you, sir, may I have another?

The good, the bad, and the ugly

Rumor of the week: That Neil Young was the mysterious"special guest" billed immediately before Steve Earle'sFriday night set at Stubb's. Young was in Austin for Southby Southwest, but not the music part. His latest concertfilm, "Silver and Gold," was premiering. The special guestwas Whiskeytown singer Ryan Adams.

Patron saint of the festival: Doug Sahm. The drive-trainfor the Sir Douglas Quartet may be dead but he hasn't leftAustin. From two star-studded tributes to him — one atWednesday night's Austin Music Awards (featuring Shawn andShandon Sahm), another Friday at the legendary Antone'sblues club (featuring former bandmate Augie Meyers and,straight from the where-is-he-now bins, Joe "King" Carassco) --to posters in Mexican restaurants advertising prints of hisportrait for sale, Sahm has edged out Townes Van Zandt asthe bandwagon who bought the farm.

Best TV footage no one could use:Steve Earle's Thursdaymorning keynote address. Earle delivered his words ofwisdom wearing a T-shirt that read, "I'm from f—-ing outerspace."

Comeback of the week: Former Byrds icon Roger McGuinn,whose Friday night performance brought overplayed standardsback down to earth with grace and style.

Best T-shirt: "My lawyer can kick your lawyer's ass."

Most shameless self-promotion: Dallas rap-rockersPimpadelic not only drove around downtown blocks in itsgiant tour bus with the band's name emblazoned along thesides, the band also spent its free time walking aroundAustin with dancers it hired from the Yellow Rose stripclub, all of whom, of course, sported tightly croppedT-shirts bearing the band's name. Watch for the band'sdebut on Tommy Boy Records.

Most prominent foreign country: The Netherlands, buoyedby waning interest in the annual Japan Night and extensivelobbying by the Dutch Rock and Pop Institute.

Best non-SXSW show: Austin's ear-splitting Hotwheels Jr.on Friday afternoon in a tiny CD shop way out in northAustin. They spell it r-a-w-k.

Best diversion on the way to another gig: The strollinghorn band Crawdaddy-O, which braved the frigid coldThursday night livening people's steps with funky Dixielandjams, including — at Adam of Fanzine's request — somesizzling James Brown.

Twenty years ago, "Star Wars" creator George Lucas wouldnot have returned a phone call from a guy called "Weird Al"Yankovic. Packages bearing such a moniker likely would havebeen routed to Skywalker Ranch security.

Today, though, everyone knows "Weird Al." He's famous.

And infamous.

"I've skewered enough famous people that they kind ofknow who I am now. Sometimes that helps, sometimes not,"Yankovic said in a conversation this week. "At least now Iget phone calls returned."

Even with George Lucas,though, Yankovic was nervous. Just because he's sold morecomedy albums than anyone else didn't mean Lucas would signover permission to skewer the context of "The PhantomMenace," which Yankovic does in the first track on hislatest album, "Running With Scissors." The song, "The SagaBegins," recounts the tale of young Anakin Skywalker to thetune of Don McLean's "American Pie" ("So my, my, this poorAnakin guy / may be Vader someday later / now he's just asmall fry").

Yankovic recorded the song, set a release date for thealbum and booked the tour. Then he sent Lucas a tape of thesong. Fortunately, Lucas loved it.

Song parodies are Yankovic's stock in trade, and overthe last two decades his witty gag covers have establishedthe largest and longest career for a musical humorist. Fromhis first parody — turning the Knack's "My Sharona" into "MyBologna" — to his latest transubtatiation — turning theOffspring's "Pretty Fly for a White Guy" into "Pretty Fly fora Rabbi" — you haven't really made it big until "Weird Al"makes fun of you.

"I've never made fun of the actual performers, though — Imean, nothing mean-spirited," Yankovic said. "It's all infun, and most of the artists are very positive about it.It's not about them, really." Sometimes the fans of theartist being parodied don't think so, though.

"Well, there's one letter in a hundred from someone whocompletely misses the point. They say, 'How can you makefun of Michael Jackson or Nirvana?' But they're the oneswho gave me permission to do it, and they think it's veryfunny," Yankovic said.

"Weird Al's" passion for parody began when, growing up inCalifornia, he discovered "The Dr. Demento Show," a popularweekly show of humorous music that just celebrated its 30thyear on the air. Tuning in each week, Yankovic heard themusical wits of Spike Jones, Tom Lehrer, Stan Freberg andAllan Sherman. He was hooked.

"Comedy and music were the two driving forces in my life,"he said. "To have them together, I thought, would, well,save a lot of time."

Yankovic saw Dr. Demento as a "kindred spirit," and whenhe was 13, Dr. Demento spoke at his school. He wasconducting a song contest at the time, and Yankovic gavehim a tape of his recordings he'd begun at home withfriends.

"I didn't win — the stuff was awful — but it was the firstthing I gave him, and I decided to keep sending him tapes.I got better over the years, and pretty soon we kind of hada relationship, and he played my songs," Yankovic said.

The first "Weird Al" song Dr. Demento played on his showwas "Belvedere Cruising," a pop song about the familyPlymouth. It was driven by Yankovic's trademark accordion,and it received great feedback from listeners. The songthat set him up, though, was "My Bologna" in 1979. Not onlydid listeners love it, the Knack themselves enjoyed it andpersuaded their record company, Capitol Records, to releasethe song as a single.

It was the latter song that ensured Yankovic's immensestardom. The humor of the song could now, in 1983, beamplified with visuals via the fledgling MTV music videonetwork. Yankovic's relationship with MTV would become hismain source of success — and excess.

"We've had a symbiotic relationship," Yankovic said. "It'soften difficult for me to get into radio playlists, but MTVloves to put my videos into rotation, so people have alwaysknown that I've had a new album out. Plus, you get moredimensions to the humor. Background gags and sight gagsallow you to flesh out the humor a lot."

Since then, Yankovic has resurfaced just in time toremind us that pop stars are not gods and can be taken downa peg or two. He's been rewarded for his efforts, too,winning Grammy awards for his note-for-note (and, in thevideos, scene-for-scene) versions of Michael Jackson hits --"Eat It" (Jackson's "Beat It") and "I'm Fat" (Jackson's "Bad").

"I've been lucky, but I think what I do is important onsome level. We need satire in the culture to keep balancedand keep things in perspective."

Tulsans remember Al, filming of `UHF'Tulsans know "Weird Al" Yankovic a bit better than mostAmericans because, as his career took off, Yankovic woundup here filming his first — and, so far, only — feature film,"UHF."

In 1988, Yankovic shot the bulk of the film in thethen-vacant Kensington Mall on 71st Street (now theSouthern Hills Marriott hotel). The film — about a TVstation owner who tries to keep his UHF channel alive byprogramming very off-beat shows — co-starred quirky "SaturdayNight Live" alum Victoria Jackson and was the film debut offuture "Seinfeld" star Michael Richards.

"We got a really good deal on the use of an empty mallthere, so we were able to rent it and set up nearly all ofour soundstages there," Yankovic said. "Almost all of theinterior shots were filmed there, plus we did some exteriorthings around town."

Other locations used throughout Tulsa included theformer Joey's Home of the Blues club, where fans of thefictional station protested, and Woodward Park, whereYankovic was made up as Rambo for a slapstick fight,complete with bulging, latex muscles. The First ChristianChurch downtown was used as a city hall building. Tulsasongwriter Jerry Hawkins ("I'd Be in Heaven in a Truck") wasone of the many local extras hired for several scenes in"UHF." He remembers some of the goofy fun on the sets.

"They had the `Wheel of Fish,' a parody on the `Wheel ofFortune' (game show)," Hawkins said. "As the show host wouldask the contestants, 'OK, now, which do you prefer — the boxon the table containing some terrific prize or the fish onthe spinning board on the wall?' We, as extras in theaudience, would yell out ... 'The fish! The fish!' It was ablast."

Hawkins also recalled the "incredible amounts ofattention" Yankovic got around town, "and all without sayingmuch at all and without doing much."

"He was one funny dude," Hawkins said, and "definitely'weird.' "

Yankovic said he's been too busy with the current tourto think about making another film, but he enjoyed hisTulsa experience. "I loved it there," he said. "We spentthe whole summer, despite that insane heat."

These online "clips" reproduce a self-selection of my journalism (music etc) during the last 20+ years. It's a lotta stuff, but it only scratches the surface. I do not currently possess the time or resources to digitize the whole body of work. These posts are simply a bunch of pretty great days at the office.